


all spelling out desire

by singlemalter



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Introspection, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlemalter/pseuds/singlemalter
Summary: None of these things happen to Charles, and certainly not with Lewis.





	all spelling out desire

There are some rules which are not to be broken.

You do not stop fighting for more. You loathe coasters, ne’er-do-wells, people who settle for best of the rest, and you refuse to become one of them. Racing is always on your mind—it’s your life’s purpose, no matter how frustrating it may get. No distractions allowed, no backing out. 

You do not forget to say thank you to all the right people; both out of pure gratitude and a need to rise higher, get into people’s good side just in case you need it someday. But you do not misuse that power. Trust is a heavy weight to bear, and you never use your doe eyes and false naïveté to deceive. 

You do not crawl to anyone’s feet: not to Clear’s, not to Binotto’s, not to Vettel’s, and especially not to a pilot from a rival scuderia, God forbid. If you were to get involved with anyone in the paddock, it’d ruin your career.

This concise set of rules is why you do not get on your knees for Lewis Hamilton, and you certainly do not beg for an easy way out of the loud echoes in your head. You do not push him flat onto his billion-thread-count sheets and ride him, clutching his hand like a lifeline. You do not cry, since none of these things happen, and even if they did, you wouldn’t be so weak in face of a challenge. This is who you are: tenacious, relentless, _nanakorobi yaoki_ inked into your heart.

He does not take advantage of you; if you wanted it (you don’t), you would always make the first move. You would text first and make sure he wore a condom. You would be in control, which you aren’t, not because power’s been stripped from you but because none of this is real.

“It’s okay, kid,” he does not murmur into your hair, and you are not offended at the patronising nickname. “It’s alright.”

Tears do not well up in your eyes, salty and painful, and you do not sob into Lewis’ come-stained shirt. You do not wail and tell him you’re tired of being a mediocre second driver—why would you, you’re perfectly happy with this setup, it’s what you signed up for, you are valiant and a team player and a promising young man.

Lewis does not attempt to soothe you, but if he were to do such a thing, he would utter meaningless jokes and anecdotes until he coaxed a laugh out of you, and you’d eventually give in, your smile hidden against the rich mulberry-plum-wine marks blossoming on his neck.

But the rules still exist, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

This is merely fantasy, a self-indulgent daydream. Your desire for Lewis Hamilton stays in the realm of forms, bottled up and occasionally revealed through a lingering hug, a hand lower than it should be, a late-night message on Instagram, hey, I saw this and thought of you.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration and title of this fic came from Richard Siken’s _Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out_ , particularly this paragraph: “Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out _You will be alone always and then you will die_.”
> 
> 七転び八起き (nanakorobi yaoki) is a Japanese adage meaning something like fall seven times, get up eight.
> 
> The realm of forms refers to Plato’s theory of ideas. 
> 
> I’m working on a longer thing for this pairing, which is why this is just silly shortfic; I hope it’s enjoyable regardless. Incidentally, I have a Tumblr now—you can follow me at singlemalter for live commentary on how much I love some drivers and can’t write for shit.


End file.
